


i'm just young enough (to still believe)

by zogratiscest



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Masturbation, Trans Character, Trans Uchiha Tajima, Underage Sex, Undressing, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zogratiscest/pseuds/zogratiscest
Summary: uchiha tajima weds himself to senju butsuma for the sake of peace.
Relationships: Senju Butsuma/Uchiha Tajima
Comments: 17
Kudos: 84





	i'm just young enough (to still believe)

The shiromuku is a mockery of everything Uchiha Tajima has strove for the last few years.

He stares down at the white fabric stretched across his lap, hands trembling faintly as he listens to the sounds of his new husband walking around the bedroom the two of them are to share. Most of the Senju family are still gathered in the main hall celebrating while the two of them are retiring for the evening. If Tajima tries hard enough not to think about it, he might be able to forget the teasing remarks about growing boys needing to be in bed before too late. He needs as much rest as he can get at his age.

Tajima was not supposed to be getting married when he was still young enough for adults to be worrying after him, even in such a teasing manner. Not at the age of thirteen years old, and not to the man who would have been his enemy on the battlefield one day.

His fingers twist in the fine material draped over his thighs as he peeks up through his lashes to see the Senju heir still on the opposite side of the room. Senju Butsuma’s broad back is to him, but he can see from here that his new husband has shrugged out of his haori, the fabric tossed carelessly atop the plain dresser.

Sighing quietly, Tajima looks down at his lap once more.  _ For the clan, _ he reminds himself.  _ For peace. _ If this is how the war between the Senju and Uchiha can finally come to an end, then he can subjugate himself to this union for the rest of his life. For peace and for the chance that his younger siblings might grow up in a time period less fraught with the deaths of those they love. After all, Tajima has no uncles or aunts now.

Just his parents, who signed the necessary treaties and promised their heir to the heir of the Senju as long as the fighting would no longer continue.

He could prepare for the entire wedding with ease. It is only this night that he could not.

Movement on the other side of the room catches his attention, and he lifts his head slowly to see Butsuma turning away from the dresser to look toward him. Tajima is quick to drop his eyes to his lap once more, doing his best to seem the patiently awaiting wife that he knows this man will expect of him. This is one duty he must perform perfectly.

Growing up the heir of the Uchiha allowed more mistakes than this does. If Butsuma is not pleased with him, he could send Tajima away. And then his family would once more be in danger, which is not something he wants to think too hard about right now.

_ You have to relax, _ one of the ladies who assisted him in dressing told him, her voice just this side of irritated as she tried to smooth his short hair into something presentable.  _ Or it’s going to hurt terribly. It will already hurt with as small as you are. _

Right. Tajima can handle that. Surely it hurts no more than any wound on the battlefield.

“The Uchiha never shut up on the battlefield,” Butsuma informs him, and Tajima refuses to react to that. Even though the Senju are just as noisy. “And yet, you haven’t said a word.”

Not since the ceremony and the reception. Tajima has spoken as little as possible, carefully curating his answers to each probing question so as not to offend any of the Senju around him. Even when those questions cut far deeper than a blade ever has, he was able to keep himself relaxed. Even as his fingers clenched into helpless little fists and he burned with the desire to light the room with a simple but powerful katon.

_ For the clan. For the Uchiha. _ He can do this much for them. There are no choices left.

A hand rough from battle cups his chin and lifts his head, and Tajima keeps his face smooth and calm as he comes face to face with Butsuma once more. “You’re so quiet, little wife. And here I thought it was only a pretty show for our families.”

Wife. Tajima’s fingers twitch, but he merely stares at the man in front of him.

Senju Butsuma is not an unattractive man by any means. The typical handsome, rough features of a Senju man paired with sun-warmed brown skin and eyes as dark as the earth. Tajima has seen that face sharpen with concentration when it matters the most.

Knuckles skim down the front of his throat to the layers of white beneath and he shivers, not sure what is wanted of him here. He needs direction to know what Butsuma wants.

“I suppose you’re just shy.” Butsuma continues on talking to himself, slipping his hand beneath the uchikake that hangs loose around Tajima’s body. “Stand up so I can undress you. While you look lovely, I’m certain you won’t want this stained.”

The implication makes the back of Tajima’s neck hot, but he accepts the hand offered to him and rises to his feet. Without the zori he wore during the ceremony, he feels too small in the face of this man, his eyes only level with Butsuma’s torso.

“Did your family craft this while the treaties were being negotiated?” Butsuma asks him, tugging the tsunokakushi off of his head and picking at the ornate pins in his hair. “I’ve never seen one so small before. At least not since I was a child myself.”

“Yes, Butsuma-san.” Tajima swallows hard, willing himself not to focus on this moment. Not to feel anything other than what is necessary. He can do this. “My clan fashioned it.”

Butsuma hums, his hands sliding under the uchikake once more, sliding it off of Tajima’s shoulders. Every layer lost is a reminder of what Tajima will be expected to do here. “Then I’ll take extra care not to damage anything. It would be a pity, would it not?”

Tajima nods slowly, trying not to shudder at the fingers that trace the curve of his shoulder through the furisode that is not thick enough. “Thank you, Butsuma-san.”

“Such a polite little thing. I wasn’t expecting that given your former status as clan heir.” Butsuma carries on undressing him at a slow pace, and Tajima stares blankly ahead as he tells himself not to feel anything. Not even when Butsuma’s fingers brush against the bare skin of his nape. “You cut your hair awfully short here. Why is that, Tajima?”

The sound of his name rolling off of Butsuma’s tongue sends a small shiver down his spine and Tajima closes his eyes, ducking his head against the unwelcome sensation. “I did not want to wear it long,” he says, because what else is there to say?

“I see.” Butsuma cups the back of his head where the hair has been shorn close to his scalp and Tajima tries not to shrink away from that touch. “Charming choice you’ve made.”

“Thank you.” He says it firmly, not as a question, though it still feels like one.

There are no more questions as Butsuma finishes undressing him, and Tajima’s throat tightens to be laid bare in front of this man. Very few people have ever seen him naked outside of his family, and it has been better that way. He knows that Butsuma knows. Butsuma would have been told the moment the Uchiha heir was born— Or, more correctly, he would have been informed when Tajima took the position of heir for himself.

(Shurama was so grateful not to have to bear the burden, and yet now…)

He forces the tremble out of his legs and does not think about how his body must look to Butsuma, knowing that logically, Butsuma expects this. Butsuma has taken the time to call him by the proper name, has not… Implied he sees Tajima as anything but what he says he is, but this is different. Butsuma has never seen his naked body before.

Clothing hides enough. Tajima is still young. His body is growing in places and not in others, for which he is thankful. Hiding the beginning curve of his hips is easy enough, and his chest has stayed relatively flat so far. It may not remain that way, but for now…

A warm hand pets down his spine and Tajima fights to remain still, to remain uncaring even as Butsuma leans closer to him. “Do the Uchiha always run so hot, little wife?”

“Yes, Butsuma-san.” Tajima swallows hard when the hand on his back drifts lower, not quite all the way down but close. A featherlight touch in the dip of his spine and then back up once more, along the curve of a shoulder blade. “But we get cold easily because of it.”

Even now, the chill in the room makes goosebumps dance along his bare skin. He shivers.

Butsuma smooths his hand along Tajima’s arm, over the raised flesh with a cocked brow. “I see. I hadn’t realized that. We should get you into bed where you’ll be warmer.”

Into bed. Tajima nods, takes a deep breath and allows himself to be turned toward the futon once more. Once he fulfills his duties as a loyal wife, his clan’s safety will be assured. He can do this. This is far easier than training his body into something sharp and deadly, honing his skill with sword and kunai and shuriken, until his hands are soaked in blood he can never truly wash off. Just a little blood of his own spilled, perhaps, but that is it.

“Warm yourself.” Butsuma’s hand is there again, cupping his shoulder and guiding him down to his knees. “I’ll be with you as soon as I finish undressing, Tajima.”

Tajima sits on the futon and drags the blanket up to his chest, covering himself as best he can as he watches Butsuma undress from the corner of his eye. Skin to skin will warm him more but he doesn’t want to think about what is about to happen or he might tense up and hurt himself further than he knows he will be.

But he would have been a soldier once. He can bear this. He knows he can do it.

His eyes wander to Butsuma against his will, watching as his husband shrugs off the layers of his wedding kimono with such fluid ease. He moves like a large predator, heavy muscle under skin knicked here and there with scars, but not many. Butsuma must be careful on the battlefield so that his enemies are never close enough to land a serious blow— Or the Senju medics have assisted in anything that might have left a larger blemish.

Tajima only has a few scars from childhood. He will never see battle properly, but he supposes that is fine. It makes his body more desirable, he is certain.

Or at least he hopes so. Hard to tell what a Senju shinobi would want.

His mind wanders only until Butsuma unties the fundoshi around his waist and lets it fall to the floor, and then Tajima stops being able to think of much of anything at all.

_ That… That isn’t going to fit, _ he thinks, fingers twisting harshly in the blanket as he openly stares up at his husband. His face burns at the thought of even trying, his thighs squeezing together tight beneath the blanket as he exhales shakily. And even through that, he feels a familiar warm curl in his stomach. It makes him rub his thighs together, ashamed of himself for feeling this way. But Butsuma is his husband now. He should feel it.

Though he is not sure whether he should be concerned or flattered with the fact that Butsuma is already partially erect. All from simply touching Tajima’s bare skin?

“Hmm.” Butsuma kneels down next to the futon, strong fingers tracing the heat in Tajima’s cheeks while he tries hard not to flinch away in embarrassment. “You’re warming up.”

Tajima says nothing. The edge of mirth in Butsuma’s voice says enough to him.

A hand grips the blanket and tugs it free of his hands, and Tajima is all too aware of the body that comes to settle against his, skin warm enough that he instinctively leans closer to his husband. Butsuma’s hand is on his face again, tilting his head up so that Tajima has to meet his eyes. Flushed and embarrassed, naked in front of a man properly for the first time, and Tajima has no idea what to do. No idea what will be expected of him.

Should he lie down and open his legs? Allow Butsuma to do the rest? He’s so lost.

“Take a breath.” Butsuma’s lips brush his forehead and Tajima closes his eyes, doing as asked. Inhale, exhale. Simple. “You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?”

Hesitantly, Tajima shakes his head. Should he have experimented more? Perhaps, but… If he did not come to Senju Butsuma as a virgin, it might be taken as an insult.

“Never? Not even with another boy your age?” Butsuma’s fingers slide lower, dropping from Tajima’s cheek to the side of his throat, thumb brushing against the hollow between his collarbones. He hums when Tajima shakes his head again. “Not with a girl, perhaps?”

Tajima’s face twists at the thought and Butsuma laughs, kissing his forehead again. “No.”

“I’ll have to teach you everything myself, then. What a delightful little gift you are.” The praise is strange but Tajima accepts it, pleased with himself for making the correct choice to come here untouched by any other hands. “Have you ever touched yourself before?”

“Yes.” Admitting it is not easy but he does just the same, his stomach coiling tight and burning. Especially over the last few days. Trying to get himself used to what it might feel like, even in small increments, because he wanted to know what he was getting into.

Not proper preparation, of course. Not the kind of training he could have undergone. And his hands are so much smaller than Butsuma’s, and smaller still than his cock.

“Show me.” Butsuma’s fingers trail down the center of his chest, down toward his stomach, and Tajima bites back a small sound. His touch is so brazen and forward. “Get comfortable and show me how you touch yourself, wife. I want to see how you do it.”

Tajima closes his eyes for a brief moment and nods, telling himself to just… This is easy. He’s masturbated enough times in his life to know how to do it, even though he’s never done it before with someone else watching. Not like this. Not ever like this.

His hands are shaking as he adjusts the pillows the way he wants them so he can settle back against them, sucking in a sharp breath as he slowly parts his thighs. Even without the angle Butsuma has, he knows what his body looks like. The beginning flair of his hips from his waist, the small dark hairs on the small mound between his legs. He’s watched his body change critically over the years and months, always charting its progress carefully.

Now he flushes and tries not to squirm at the way Butsuma’s eyes settle between his legs, pretending not to notice the way his cock thickens in reaction. “Is this fine?”

“Very fine,” Butsuma reassures him, though the low, husky tone of his voice does not calm in the way he likely thinks it will. “Touch yourself, Tajima. I want to watch you do it.”

The thought is both repulsive and exciting in ways that Tajima struggles to parse out, but he licks the pads of his fingers for wetness and slips his hand down his body. Uchiha bodies burn hot and this private place is no different, warmer still than the rest of his body as he strokes between the small lips. The growing wetness there makes him burn all the more as he strokes that up over the small, soft swell of his sensitive clitoris.

“You make a very pretty picture.” Butsuma grasps one of his ankles and Tajima shivers as he strokes in slow, careful circles, keeping his touch lighter than he would if he was alone. Trying to draw it out. “Have you ever let anyone else look at you like this?”

Tajima shakes his head, fingers stuttering in their rhythm. “N-no, Butsuma-san, I—”

“You can drop the honorific, wife. The two of us are alone.” Butsuma’s fingers climb higher up his leg, rough callused hand mapping out his pale skin while Tajima slowly strokes himself to fan the small fire in his stomach higher. “And it’s more intimate this way.”

“Yes, husband.” Tajima tests the title instead and is pleased when Butsuma’s eyes spark with something… Something different, not so calm and reserved after all it seems.

Warm fingers press into the bend of his knee for only a moment before sliding up the inside of his thigh, and Tajima shivers as he works his fingers diligently. His cheeks burn at the soft wet noises that fill the air, the slick sounds of his fingers moving across skin that grows steadily damper each moment. A small, choked noise leaves his lips when those fingers touch his folds, skating through the wetness gathering on his skin.

“Easy,” Butsuma whispers, his voice gone hoarse as his hand slides up to meet Tajima’s own, now trembling too hard for him to control it. “Let me. Just lie back and let me.”

Easy enough, though Tajima needs great effort to slowly take his hand away as he sinks back into the pillows. The feel of another man’s hand between his legs is alien to him but he tries to will his body to relax. This is what is right and proper after all, and he knows perhaps it may be better for Butsuma to prepare him. That he might know what he’s doing.

Butsuma touches his body with more confidence than he does, fingers parting his folds and pressing down against his clit until his legs jump and he whines in shock. The bright spark of pleasure is welcome, though, distracting him from how strange this all is. And Butsuma only smiles down at him, clearly pleased as he teases the sensitive bud until Tajima’s thighs begin to twitch and tremble. Warmth coils slow and languid through his muscles.

Tajima shivers as a chill dances along his skin, and then Butsuma leans over him. Warmth blankets him as an arm slides around his shoulders, easing him closer as warm lips brush against the corner of his mouth. He’d already given away his first kiss to Butsuma during the ceremony and turns toward him now, fuzzy with pleasure and craving more.

It feels good. Maybe it won’t hurt as much as everyone insists that it will.

“Are you always so quiet when you masturbate?” Butsuma asks him, denying the kiss that Tajima thought he wanted. “I suppose with so many siblings, you must have to be.”

Tajima whimpers softly and ducks his head, trying his very best to lay still while Butsuma’s fingers wander lower to the source of that wetness. “I-I didn’t want anyone to hear.”

“No one will hear you now, little wife.” Butsuma kisses his hair, fingers pressing against Tajima’s entrance without quite pushing their way inside. “You can make noise for me.”

He almost chokes on the gasp that leaves his mouth when Butsuma does press a finger inside of him, squirming at how his body is already responding to being touched like this. He’s embarrassingly wet, opening easily. Maybe it would be better this way, to be able to take him easily and without pain. Maybe it will not have to hurt as much as he fears.

“I wonder where that clever Uchiha mind goes when you get so quiet like this.” Butsuma’s lips brush against his ear and Tajima shivers, fingers twisting in the bedding beneath him as he fights to hold still. “I suppose I’ll just have to give you something to focus on.”

“I’m not—”  _ Going anywhere, _ Tajima thinks even as he keens around a second finger splitting him open, thrusting deep into his body. His hands twist harder in the bedding and his head falls back against the pillows, willing himself to stay relaxed, to stay calm—

Butsuma’s arm slips around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “I’m surprised you’re so unpracticed. Your clan is touchy, and you haven’t always been betrothed to be mine.”

“No one—” Tajima breaks off around a whine when those fingers curl up, pressing against something that makes his entire body spasm. “I was the clan heir, I— Ah!”

“No one was good enough for the Uchiha clan heir?” Butsuma asks, and Tajima whimpers when those fingers keep moving deeper inside of him, thrusting their way inside. It’s too much so soon but the burn only makes the pleasure spark brighter through his blood. “Fair enough, I suppose. Wouldn’t want just anyone putting their hands on your body.”

That isn’t why, but Tajima lets him believe what he wants, his head falling back on a helpless moan when those fingers find a pace inside of him. His body keeps responding, the vice of his channel growing slicker and hotter until it feels almost unbearable, setting his body to wriggling desperately. He feels like he’s close to coming, and Butsuma has hardly touched him. But it keeps cresting and it won’t stop, he won’t  _ stop _ —

Butsuma pulls his fingers free just before Tajima can actually come, and he doesn’t bite his tongue in time. “Why did you stop?” he demands, petulant and demanding.

“So  _ there _ you are, underneath all of that quiet facade.” Butsuma grips his chin with wet fingers and Tajima frowns up at him. “You’re  _ mine, _ wife, and I’m not fond of the thought of you wandering around the compound like a quiet little ghost. You belong to me now.”

“I don’t seek to anger you, husband.” Tajima swallows hard, because his clan, his family—

“As if such a little thing could ever properly rile me up.” Butsuma smirks down at him and Tajima’s eyes narrow in response. “What, you think a little argument might result in me casting you out of the house? Going back to war? I have the Uchiha heir in my bed and he’s going to be  _ staying _ there. Imagine giving up such an opportunity so freely.”

Tajima is hauled off of the futon entirely a moment later, Butsuma’s hands on his hips and manhandling him up into the man’s lap. His hands find purchase on Butsuma’s shoulders and his face burns at the feeling of something stiff pressing up against his wet sex. The thought of his first time happening like this, speared open on his husband’s cock…

“I’ll hold you up, wife.” Butsuma squeezes his hips and easily lifts him, and Tajima is distracted by the way the muscles in his arms flex smoothly with the motion. “But you’ll have to do the rest yourself. I’m sure it’s not beyond your talents.”

Tajima’s hand twitches on Butsuma’s shoulder as he looks down at…  _ Sage, that isn’t going to  _ **_fit._ ** “I would have thought you’d want to do this the first time properly lying down.”

“Mm, but you’re so much smaller. I wouldn’t want to squash you on accident.” The hands on his hips squeeze again and Tajima bites his tongue. Uchiha already lean toward being slim and slender, lean muscle instead of bulky. And he’s still young, still growing.

“All right.” He should get this over with. Then perhaps he can rest after this endless day.

He pries his fingers off of Butsuma’s shoulder and reaches between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around his husband’s cock. He’s never touched one before, not like this, not heavy and hard and hot in his fingers. Not ever one that was supposed to go inside of him, though he can’t imagine how that could happen without significant pain. But he does take a moment to admire the way Butsuma shudders at the touch and gives an experimental stroke. A low groan is muffled against his hair, and Tajima closes his eyes.

“Get the tip inside and I’ll do the rest.” Butsuma’s hands flex on his hips again, and Tajima feels a throb against his fingers. His husband is clearly very excited.

“Yes, husband.” Tajima glances down against to be sure of the angle, and it seems almost obscene to do this himself, to shift forward just a little as he presses the swollen cockhead against his own body. The jump of excitement in his stomach makes him twitch.

“Such a pretty little thing.” Butsuma tilts his head, nips at his earlobe. “I can feel how wet you are, Tajima. It’s barely going to hurt as long as you take it slow.”

That isn’t what he heard, but Tajima is not in a position to argue right now.

He presses the tip against his entrance, trying to keep himself calm and relaxed as the muscles there slowly stretch. If Butsuma’s fingers had felt like too much, this feels like he may very well bleed himself open if he takes too much. As soon as he has it as deep as he can manage, his nerves tingling and his body unsure if this is pleasure or pain, he sets his hand carefully on Butsuma’s shoulder once more. Now he has to trust his husband.

Trusting a Senju with such a delicate thing. Tajima may not be able to walk come morning.

A soft sigh against his hair prefaces the hands on his hips slowly easing him down, ensuring he takes just a bit more of Butsuma’s shaft with each movement. “You feel heavenly. I can only imagine how enjoyable it’s going to be to lie down with you every night.”

His hands tighten on Tajima’s hips, grip harsh enough that there may be bruises left behind come morning. Tajima tries to focus on anything but the sensation of being stretched and filled and  _ overfilled, _ his body struggling to accommodate so much pressed inside of him. And then Butsuma’s cock hits the  _ end _ of his body and he wheezes thinly, digging his fingers in until he feels the skin beneath his nails break.

“Fuck.” Butsuma’s voice is rougher now, hoarse as he slides his hands down to grip Tajima’s thighs. “I knew you’d be small inside, but I wasn’t counting on this.”

Tajima shudders against him, every small movement rubbing the head of Butsuma’s cock against something sensitive inside of him. He’s never touched that. How could he have?

“Perfect.” Butsuma squeezes his thighs, urging Tajima’s legs to wrap around his waist, and they can, but just. “Just deep enough to take all of me. I’m going to enjoy you, wife.”

All Tajima can do in response is whine, clinging to Butsuma with his trembling limbs while his husband sets the pace of their bodies. Every drag of cock out of him lights his entire body on fire, singing his nerves and leaving him raw and gasping— For less or more, he isn’t even sure right now. Everything is too new to him, too confusing. It hurts but the pain builds into something almost pleasurable, a low throb of desire coursing through his veins.

Their coupling is a blur of sensation, the pressure in his cunt not easing up. The heat gathering in his loins curls hotter and tighter and Tajima can’t help his moans, clawing at Butsuma’s shoulders and wiggling helplessly in his grip. He can barely move. The man is a blooded shinobi and incredibly strong, and his grip is bruising.

Butsuma left him too close to the edge for him to last long and he keens when he orgasms, gasping and trembling and moaning as shocks of pleasure roll through his body. Butsuma does not last much longer; Tajima is uncertain if he should be flattered about that.

He’d come inside, too, and Tajima is well aware of his body’s full capabilities.

“Mm.” Butsuma’s chin comes to rest on his shoulder, fingers lazily tracing a design down his spine that makes his skin tingle. “Such a treat, Tajima. I’ll spend the next few days picking apart every little secret of your body until there’s no part of you I do not know.”

Tajima bites his tongue for a moment, then squirms atop him. “Unless you wanted children right away, I would suggest… Perhaps being cautious. My body is still fertile.”

He can almost  _ feel _ the smile against the side of his neck. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a genius who i cannot name publicly


End file.
